Something & Nothing
by Ultrawoman
Summary: One-Shot. When Lucy showed up at Flynn's door with her bottle of vodka it was just to talk. Nothing happened... did it?


**A/N: This fic was born out of much reading of excellent Garcy fic by my fellow writers, much watching of excellent Garcy vids by the talented folks on YouTube, and repeated watching of the deleted Garcy scene from Season 2. May it bring major Garcy feels to whoever reads it ;)**

_**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and any recognisable dialogue from Timeless belongs to Shawn Ryan, Eric Kripke, and other folks who aren't me.**_

Something and Nothing

When she showed up at his door with her bottle of vodka, Flynn wasn't sure whether to be amused or intrigued. He found after a while that he was both, along with a whole lot of other things too. Above all, he came to realise he was thankful and just a little bit proud. To think of how he and Lucy had started out, how much she had once feared him, and now, not only was she prepared to be alone in a room with him, but sitting on his bed, tripping over the line into the wrong side of tipsy. That was trust, that was special.

She said she didn't want to talk about Wyatt, which suited him fine. Not exactly his favourite subject, and yet the guy's name was bound to be mentioned as the hour grew late and the tears built in Lucy's eyes. Flynn didn't try to stop her, though he did have to put in effort not to wince at every mention of the other soldier's name.

"I don't even know why it bothers me so much," said Lucy, swiping at her eyes and taking another drag from the vodka bottle. "It's not like we even had a relationship. It was not some grand love affair. One night, that's all. Probably only felt so special because it was 1940s Hollywood anyway."

Flynn smirked at that, bit his lip so he didn't laugh. It did sound a little ridiculous. He honestly wasn't clear on Lucy's real feelings for Wyatt. She liked him well enough, maybe even loved him once, but that kind of betrayal cut deep. Of course, if she could learn to trust Flynn after everything that went before, there was no telling what she could forgive Wyatt for in time. Not that he said anything of this. Flynn didn't say much at all, sure as he was that all Lucy really needed was someone to listen. He could do that, until suddenly she was leaning much closer, her head at his shoulder.

"I guess I'm lucky," Lucy mused, a sigh escaping her lips. "I mean, I have _some_ self-respect. I'm not sitting here wondering what's wrong with me just because some guy chose another woman over me. That'd be really pathetic."

Flynn thought he made some sound that proved he agreed with her or at the very least that he heard what she said. He meant to but it was tough to concentrate on anything but the scent of her hair so close to his nose, the warmth of her body that much closer that in had been before.

"I just think it'd be easier if we didn't all live together in this bunker, like the goddamn Brady Bunch or something," Lucy grumbled, lifting her head back up to take another drink from the vodka bottle.

If she noticed the sigh of relief that came out of Flynn, she didn't mention it. Of course, when he shifted as if to get up, thinking maybe sitting in the chair might be safer in the circumstances, _that_ she noticed.

"You going somewhere?" she asked, wobbling a little as she turned towards him and grabbed at his arm.

"Not far," he told her. "I, uh... I thought maybe you wanted to stretch out," he said lamely, cursing himself for it the moment she frowned at him. "You seemed... tired."

"Are you kidding?" she said, rolling her eyes, hand still on his arm and he daren't actually get up and go anywhere until she moved it. "I'm _always_ tired, and frustrated, and so sick of my life being this. This place, this time travelling nightmare," she said, anger stiffening her muscles and filling her tone.

"Hey," said Flynn, his hand over hers bringing her back in a moment. "Things could always be worse."

That got a burst of humourless laughter and nothing more out of Lucy for a few painful moments. Then slowly she turned and peered at him through her hair, eyes dipping to their hands, one atop the other, before returning to his face.

"It could be worse?" she checked.

"Sure." Flynn nodded. "I mean, for everything we've lost, we still have our looks."

The laughter that produced was much more genuine, which is what Flynn had been going for. Lucy deserved something to look happy about, even if only for a few seconds, even if it was kind of a lame joke. Not that he was kidding about how she looked, but she didn't necessarily need to know that right now.

"Thank you, Garcia Flynn," she said, pitching forward until her forehead pressed against the top of his arm.

"For what?" he asked her more softly than he intended to.

Peeking up at him, she lifted her head and smiled.

"For... being you, I guess?" she told him eventually. "For listening, for not judging, for... for wanting to get to know me, when I barely feel like I know myself anymore."

She was so perfectly beautiful to him, so much stronger than she realised, so much everything he ever wanted, though he hadn't known it for too long. He knew now and still it all seemed pointless.

"I happen to think you're very much worth knowing," he told her, swallowing hard when she seemed to get ever closer. "You are an amazing woman, Lucy. I'm only grateful that you still realise your worth even when others around you cannot see."

He really didn't mean to bring up Wyatt so obviously, not in a moment like this, but if Lucy realised exactly what he meant, it didn't show. Her gaze never wavered from his own and she sure as hell showed no signs of backing off. Just when Flynn was starting to realise quite how out of focus Lucy's face was becoming, her lips touched his and the world went away.

Now was really not the time for this and Flynn was so very much aware of it. The taste of vodka on her tongue as it plunged into his mouth was enough of a reminder that Lucy was someplace near to drunk, too much so for this to be okay. Unfortunately, a split second before Flynn remembered that he was supposed to be a gentleman, for Lucy if no-one else, she pulled away, hands slipping from his face, shock registering in her eyes. She had started this but he had been a willing participant too. She had to have noticed. He would be willing to bet all the money in the world that was why she stopped.

"Lucy..." he began, but she shook her head.

"No. No, I didn't... Oh God!" she gasped, sinking back into herself, hands covering her face and then running back through her hair. "I'm sorry. Flynn, I am so sorry," she told him, breaking his heart more than she ever could've guessed.

"Don't worry about it," he told her bravely, glad she couldn't stand to look at him right now because he wasn't sure he could bear it either. "Forget it happened if you want."

He wanted her to tell him no, even though he was sure she never would. Wanted her to say she couldn't forget and wouldn't want to, but she didn't. This time when he got up to move to the chair, she didn't stop him. The one time when he would've loved for her to. Irony was a bitch.

"Okay, that was nothing," said Lucy, reaching for her discarded bottle and draining the last drop of vodka from it. "Nothing happened," she said more determinedly, glancing at Flynn.

He nodded once, a promise that he would stick to her story if that was what she wanted. When she smiled just a little, he knew at least that she believed him, that they were going to be okay, somehow.

Within the hour, she was laid out on the bed, fast asleep. Flynn pulled the blanket up over her and then quickly returned to his chair. He didn't sleep, not properly anyway, he couldn't possibly after what happened, and especially not with her still there.

When the lights started to come up, in place of the daylight the bunker never saw, Flynn slipped silently from the room to make coffee, half-expecting Lucy to be awake when he returned.

It took a little longer than that, but only a few minutes. There was an anticipation in Flynn, almost a fear of what came next, as he watched Lucy return to reality. She visibly jumped when she realised he was there and it was so amusing he couldn't help but smile. At least it covered all the other feelings he was having about her and this night and that kiss.

Maybe he shouldn't have made the joke about her being a gentle and responsive lover, but honestly, humour was easier somehow. Besides, he couldn't help but need to say something that might elicit a reaction, just so he could gauge what she remembered, what she felt about anything that came to mind.

She hid it well, but Flynn was trained to read people, and as he told her just yesterday, sometimes he knew Lucy better than she knew herself. There was something there, just a flicker, when he said that nothing happened and she agreed with the word he used. Nothing, it was what she had called it, so he wasn't lying, but she knew. They both knew.

Moments later, when she slipped out of his room, he wondered if she was choosing to forget that kiss, maybe just telling herself she dreamt it all. Honestly, Flynn was already starting to wonder if he had. After all, it wouldn't be the first time.

The End


End file.
